


Subject to Change

by MateaHefler



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Thorin does not know how to woo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-30
Updated: 2014-01-30
Packaged: 2018-01-10 15:01:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1161070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MateaHefler/pseuds/MateaHefler
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Saeniver considered herself a woman who did not need a man, least of all a man who is too proud and too prejudiced to see the fault in his ways. But, alas, she has to get married to the King Under the Mountain, Thorin Oakenshield. He might be easy on the eyes but he is just not her type. What with the broad, strong shoulders, lovely, blue-grey eyes that held so much intensity that Saeniver felt like she was naked before him whenever he looked at her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Subject to Change

**Author's Note:**

> Might be continued.  
> Nothing graphic but a bit of swearing...

Saeniver did not want to get married to anyone, least of all a person who will not have enough time for the family because of his kingly duties. Saeniver only ever wanted to be was a blacksmith, to feel the blistering heat of the flame upon her skin, the heavy metal in her hand and hear the clang of a hammer as it helped her shape the aforementioned metal.

  
Saeniver considered herself a woman who did not need a man, least of all a man who is too proud and too prejudiced to see the fault in his ways. But, alas, she has to get married to the King Under the Mountain, Thorin Oakenshield. He might be easy on the eyes but he is just not her type. What with the broad, strong shoulders, lovely, blue-grey eyes that held so much intensity that Saeniver felt like she was naked before him whenever he looked at her.

  
Saeniver growled in frustration as she banged at the hot iron she was shaping, surprising some of the dwarves near her (especially her father). Sweat poured down her back nd steadily dripped into her dark green eyes, making them itch and burn (like the brightness of the fire did not do that enough).

  
"That. Stupid. Pompous. Prick." She growled and emphasized each word with a hit of her hammer. "Who does he think he is? That bastard."

  
Her father was gaping at his usually quiet and calm (albeit, temperamental) daughter. He did not expect she would react such a way to the engagement to the King. Most of the girls would've thrown themselves at such a chance.

  
"Saeniver, my dear..." Her father started, only to stop and widen his eyes at the ferocious glare his daughter sent him.

 

  
"You!" She pointed her finger at him, hammer at her side. "You have no right to speak, Old Man! I have been a good daughter, I have done everything you wanted me to, I have stayed with you after mother went swanning off with that bloody bastard you called brother and what do I get? A MARRIAGE TO A GIT!"

  
Saeniver's words rang loud and clear throughout the forge. It seemed like everything went silent the moment her father and she started arguing.

  
"What are you staring at?" Saeniver growled menacingly as she waved her hammer about threateningly. "Bunch of gossipy women! Get back to work, you worthless bunch of orc piss!"

  
"You ain't a Queen yet, lass!" Some dwarf growled back at her. "You can't order us aboiut yet."

  
"COME AND SAY THAT TO MY HAMMER, YOU BASTARD!"

  
"Oh, now you want to be a Queen?" The same dwarf mocked.

  
"NO! I AM SAYING THAT I CAN BLOODY ORDER YOU AROUND BECAUSE YOU HAVE STOPPED WORKING TO LISTEN SOMETHING WORTHY OF GOSSIP!"

  
"Sae, calm down, my dear." Her father tried to placate her. Judging by the glare he got in return, it did not work much. "You do not have to marry him, if you do not want to."

  
"I have to beacause I am not about to embarass my King and myself."

  
"You're willing to put your wishes away once again?"

  
"Yes." Saeniver seemed to lose all her fire with that one word.

  
***

  
"What do you mean, she was protesting?" Thorin asked his old friend in wonder.

  
"Aye, loudly, as well."

  
"Dwalin," Thorin practically groaned with his head in his hands. "What am I supposed to do now?"

  
"Woo her."

  
"Wha'?"

  
"I said, woo her." Dwalin repeated, looking quite amused at the baffled look his friend had upon his face. "You know, give her trinkets and sweets, be romantic."

  
"I am not sure with whom you have me confused with, Dwalin."

  
"If I got you confused, I would not be here giving you advice how to woo a woman."

  
"I am not an idiot, Dwalin, I know how to..." Thorin waved his hand in the air, not able to pronounce last words.

  
"Woo a woman?"

  
"Yes, that."

  
"Not that I have noticed. How many times did you get beat up by some wench?"

  
"I was young and foolish."

  
"You were hundred-and-forty!"

  
"And?"

  
"You're hundred-and-ninety-nine now."

  
"I was young and foolish!"

  
"If you were not my king, I'd've punched you in the face by now."

  
"Nice to know."

  
***

  
Saeniver was walking from the forges, sweaty, dirty and aching from all the force she has used to work. Sighing heavily, Saeniver closed her eyes for but a moment. That moment was enough for her to bump into something hard. Or, rather, someone as hjard as stone, someone who emraced her so she would not fall.  
She opened her eyes and stared into the face of a dwarf she did not want to marry. His blue eyes were instense on hers, warm. His gaze was intimate, soft and gentle. It made her feel heat buzz all over her body and Saeniver did not want to feel that. Not now, not ever. But she did not want him to remove his arms from around her.

  
"Hello." Her voice was breathless, quiet and weak, Saeniver did not like that. She did not like the way Thorin made her feel.

  
"Hello, Saeniver." Thorin greeted, unaware of the way he made Saeniver tremble. "How are you?"

  
"I am well, but tired." She answered, barely stoping the whimper escaping her when he released her.

  
"Oh." Thorin shuffled his feet. "I have a question to ask."

  
"Yes?"

  
"Are you willing to spend tomorrow with me?"

  
"I... I can't. I have to work."

  
"You forget that I am the king."

  
"In that case, yes."

  
"I will see you tomorrow, Saeniver."

  
With a heart stopping smile, Thorin turned and walked away, leaving a stunned Saeniver behind him. Minutes passed before Saeniver had regained enough sense to close her mouth and slow her racing heart. Then she raced to her chambers to wash and go to sleep.  
She dreamt of tomorrow and Thorin's touch.

  
***

  
Thorin was pacing in front of Fili and Kili, who watched their Uncle in amusement. It was a rare moment they could see Thorin in such a nervous state (it was usually them).

  
"Alright, it's going to be alright." Thorin kept mumbling to himself, ignoring his snickering nephews.

  
"Are you sure?" Fili grinned, his blue eyes twinkling.

  
"Of course I am!"

  
"You do not look like it." Kili informed him.

  
"What could possibly go wrong?" Thorin wondered outloud.

  
"You should not have said that." His nephews muttered.

  
Thorin igniored them with a surprising ease.

  
***

  
Dark green eyes were narrowed in annoyance as her best friend tugged at the dark red dress. Saeniver did not like wearing dresses, she prefered breeches, leather pants and tunics. Dresses were for little girls and women who were weak and needed saving.

  
"I am not wearing this!" Saeniver snorted while pulling at the favric so hard she tore it.

  
"YOU RUINED THE DRESS! AND IT'S NOT EVEN YOURS!"

  
"I DO NOT BLOODY CARE! I'LL GIVE YOU MONEY!"

  
"Calm down, sweetie." Her friend, Meriel, said softly.

  
"How can I calm down when I am spending the day with the most arrogant man on the face of Middle Earth?"

  
"Thorin does not seem as arrogant as you claim him to be. Have you ever even spent some time alone with him?" Meriel has always been the voice of reason.

  
"Of course I have been!"

  
"For longer than five minutes?"

  
"Well, no..."

  
"Then how do you know?"

  
"I just do, alright?" Saeniver snapped while pulling on her brown, leather pants and dark blue tunic that she tucked in the pants and let Meriel pull the strings of a corset she reluctantly put on.

  
Saeniver let her hands slide down her sides, enjoying the feeling of the velvety surface of the black corset. Her breasrs looked bigger and her waist was slimmer but she did not feel comfortable wearing it. Sighing, Saeniver left the corset on, just because she did not want to anger her friend further.  
Meriel smiled brightly and pulled Saeniver to sit in front of the vanity to brush her hair. Black curls straightened into soft waves. Meriel separated the locks and twined them into a long braid and tied it off with a dark blue ribbon.

  
"Just in time." Meriel giggled as knocks sounded from the door.

  
Saeniver took as deep of a breath as she could and went to open the door.

  
***

  
Thorin tugged at his blue shirt, hair strangely in order instead of a mess it usually was. Even his beard was tamer than usual. He just hoped it wasn't that obvious. Thorin cleared his throat and knocked on the oaken door, frowning when he heard unfamiliar set of giggles. He was pretty sure Saeniver never giggled and, even if she did, they would not sound like an orc stabbed in the balls (meaning, very high-pitched).  
Saeniver opened the door and Thorin shoved the flowers in her face. He felt her rough hand grasp his and moved it down and away from her face (which was turning an alarming shade of red). A thunderous scowl (one that could rival Thorin's) was carved into her pretty face.

  
"Are, are..." Thorin stuttered, eyes wide. "Are the flowers not to your liking?"

  
"I am alergic to pollen, my King."

  
"Oh." Was Thorin's simple response. Then he gave her a briliant (though maniacal looking) grin and threw the flowers over his shoulder. "All gone!"

  
Saeniver stared at Thorin as if he breathed fire. Minutes passed in awkward silence and shuffling feet. They both went to speak but closed their mouths with a snap.

  
"You look like a fish, doing that."

  
"I beg your pardon?" Thorin asked, not sure if he heard correctly.

  
"You. Look. Like. A. Fish. Doing that." Saeniver repeated slowly, as if she was speaking to a mentally challenged child.

  
"Well, you look lovely."

  
"Was that meant to be an insult?"

  
"No!" Thorin denied, shaking his head. "Is someone else in your room?"

  
"Yes, my idiot friend."

  
"Ah, so she was the giggling orc." He muttered to himself, unaware Meriel could hear him. Her outraged gasp informed him, she did, in fact, hear him. "Shall we be on our way? Hopefully, no one will be eavesdroping somewhere else."

  
Saeniver was not at all certain if she wanted to spend some time alone with Thorin, her King, her fiance. She was quite afraid of the feelings the day and his closeness might bring. No, she did not like it. Although, the muscles in his arm were quite firm and lovely to feel even under the cloth of his tunic as they walked arm in arm.

  
Thorin lead her on a ride in the valley of the mountain (which had to be cut short, considering the amount of flowers in bloom); then showed her his favorite places in the mountain (surprisingly, one them was a library). He asked her questions, from her favorite color to questions about her friends. It was surprisingly comfortable, talking with him, walking with him. Time flew and, once again, they were at her door.

  
"I have had a nice time, Thorin." Saeniver admited reluctantly.

  
"So have I." Thorin smiled. "My apologies for the flowers."

  
"It is alright, you did not know."

  
"Well, I must leave you now. Have a nice evening."

  
"You too."

  
Saeniver smiled slightly when the dwarf king took her hand in his and pressed a soft kiss to her knuckles. Saeniver could not but wonder: was she wrong about Thorin? It seemed like she was.


End file.
